Upon the curve of Earth’s soft sphere,
A woman weeps for one held dear.
Her sorrow rises, hand outstretched—
And through the cross, His love is fetched.

Christ bends low, with tender grace,
A quiet strength upon His face.
Though worlds may fade, and hearts may break,
His hand will hold, for heaven’s sake.

For love transcends what eyes can view—
He whispers softly, “I’m here… for you.”